Uzumaki Naruto and the Goblet of Fire
by molly00300
Summary: AU Naruto x Harry Potter crossover. Naruto and the gang from Konoha Academy of Sorcery participate in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts, in place of Beauxbatons, who declined. Full summary available in my profile. ON HIATUS.
1. At the Ministry

Disclaimer: I own nothing, neither Naruto nor Harry Potter

Author's Note: Please review. I am anxious to make this story as good as possible, so any comments, advice, suggestions, critique, and corrections are greatly appreciated. Flames, however, are not. If you're going to hate the story, that's fine, but please provide some reasoning for doing so.

Many thanks to Audrey for being my superfantastic beta!

* * *

**Uzumaki Naruto and the Goblet of Fire**

_Chapter One: At the Ministry_

Ludo Bagman was, not for the first time in his life, unhappy. It should be stated that, despite the undeniable presence of misery in his past, Ludo was normally of a pleasant disposition—he'd even been described by that charmingly malicious Rita Skeeter as "jovial." Nevertheless, the fact remained that, at that moment, Ludo distinctly felt overworked and underpaid, two thoroughly disheartening states of being.

He told himself that it would all pay off in the end, that this year the World Cup would be hailed as one of the best, and that his name—_his _name—would be firmly attached to the entire event. He told himself that, when the time came to sit down and watch the Quidditch match, everything would suddenly be worth it. He told himself that he would have the time of his life at the Cup, and he'd win enough money when his team won to pay back any and all debtors. And, if all went as planned, there would be the Tournament to look forward to, the reinstatement of which would be largely credited to him. This is what he told himself, and sometimes he even believed it.

This was not one of those times. This was one of the _other _times, when the temptation of simply handing in his resignation was almost too great to resist.

The hour was one o'clock in the morning, and all Ludo wanted was sleep. He had been signing papers for four hours, each one even more insubstantial than the next, despite the insistence of those around him that all these documents were imperative to…well, something or another. The Cup, probably. He'd learned within months of taking up his position that it was just a waste of time to read everything he was asked to sign.

When Ludo was first offered the job of Head of the Department of Magical Gaming and Sports, he'd expected it to be fun. Something fast-paced and based on instincts (much like his previous position on the Quidditch pitch, all those years ago)—not paperwork of the dullest variety.

And yet, as paperwork was what his job entailed, paperwork was what he would have to do. He was initialing the bottom of yet another piece of parchment, when there was a soft rap on his door.

"Sir," said a familiar, timid voice. Ludo heard the door creak as it was opened just a hair. "Sir, Mr. Crouch is here to see you."

"Deirdre, what in Merlin's name are you still doing here at this hour?" Ludo demanded of his mousy secretary, a twenty-something girl who had only been working for him for a week.

"You—you never dismissed me, sir. I didn't know…and you were still here, so I thought I ought to stay." Though he couldn't see her face, which was still hidden behind the door, Ludo could tell just by the waver in her voice that she was flushed red and immensely distraught.

"It's alright, Deirdre. You can go home. And tell Barty to come on in," he added, to which Deirdre responded with a curt, "Yes, sir," before retreating.

The door gave no noise when it was opened again. Instead, it swung forward silently and smoothly to reveal Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the man who had been ordering Ludo about for weeks now.

"Working late I see," Ludo observed, forcing a smile. "What's happened now?"

Barty responded by thrusting something into Ludo's hands and saying, "Read this. It's safe to say that it's urgent."

It was a letter, and urgent or not, it was short: it rested very lightly in Ludo's hand and was emblazoned with a vaguely familiar silver seal, the ridges of which felt smooth and slippery beneath Ludo's thumb. The middle of the seal, he noticed, with decorated with a large, looping "B."

"Ah," said Ludo after a moment. "Beauxbatons, right?"

Barty didn't respond, so Ludo looked back to the piece of parchment. It said, in a neat, even hand:

-

_** Monsieur Crouch,**_

_** On behalf of Beauxbatons Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I must decline your invitation for our fine institution to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. So long as Durmstrang is competing, we must abstain. If the current situation changes, then perhaps so will my decision.**_

_** Yours,**_

_**Madame Olympe Maxime**_

_** Headmistress, Beauxbatons**_

-

"Oh, blast!" said Ludo, growling at the letter.

Barty sniffed in agreement. "Yes, as you say. Without a third wizarding school, there is no _Tri_wizard Tournament."

"But why on earth is she declining?" Ludo asked, frowning at the other man. "Surely not all that business from the last tournament. Why, that was more than a century ago!"

"A boy _was_ killed, Bagman," said Barty disparagingly. "A Durmstrang boy. His death cleared the way for the Beauxbatons champion to win, which prompted Durmstrang to accuse the boy of murder. Beauxbatons's reaction was to accuse Durmstrang of—"

"—framing their champion. Yes, yes, Barty. I _know_ the story," interrupted Ludo, who began to pace the small length of his office. "And I also know that the investigation turned up nothing on the part of either school, and it was concluded that the entire ordeal was just a big misunderstanding based solely on grief. Madame Maxime can't honestly still hold a grudge against Durmstrang for something that happened in neither her nor Karkaroff's lifetime."

Brushing an invisible fleck of dust from the sleeve of his robes, Barty said nonchalantly, "And yet it seems she does."

Ludo grunted in reply, too exasperated to form actual, coherent words, and he sunk into his desk chair.

"As I've said, it seems that, without further change on Madame Maxime's part, there will be no Tournament." Barty smiled tightly, an expression that seemed wildly out of place on his somber face. "Ah, well, perhaps for the bet—"

"Wait. The rules," Ludo interrupted, a light creeping into his eyes that might have been excitement or exhaustion. Not waiting for Barty to respond, Ludo said, as he dug through the contents of his desk drawer, "Within the rules for the Tournament, it never says that the three schools that must participate are Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons." Pulling out a booklet from his desk with a triumphant "ha," Ludo continued, "It was sort of an unofficial rule, wasn't it?"

"What're you saying?" Barty asked, peering over Ludo's shoulder at the now-open booklet.

"Yes, yes, I am right. See, right here? Although it's certainly implied that it'll be those three, there are no actual restrictions on which schools compete. Which means—"

"Which means," said Barty, sounding none too pleased at the revelation, "that another school could compete in place of Beauxbatons."

* * *

Owls were sent to six schools in total: one in America; one in Brazil; one in Côte d'Ivoire; one in Australia; one in Venezuela; and the final was sent to Konoha Academy of Sorcery, located in Japan. 

The last of these owls was sent at the suggestion of Ludo Bagman, although neither he nor anyone else within the Ministry of Magic particularly expected Konoha Academy to accept the invitation to participate in the Triwizard Tournament.

The school was of an infamously reclusive nature. Its headmaster, Professor Sarutobi, and his small population of students (a number amounting only to a little under one hundred) were rarely seen. When they did make appearances, at international conferences or meetings with the Japanese magical government, they were largely silent and infuriatingly enigmatic. However, Konoha's claim to fame was not its mysterious staff and students, but the fact that it was the only school of any merit that specialized in teaching exclusively wandless magic.

Ludo had heard of Konoha in his early days at school, when he had thought that, coming from a pureblood family, he already knew all there was to know about magic. Upon learning that some wizards could perform magic without the use of wands, he determined that he too should become a master of the skill. In the end, it seemed he had no capacity for unfocussed magic, but he had been left with an undeniable appreciation for those who did. And so, when Barty Crouch came to him, asking if he had any schools to add to the list of possible participants, Ludo had mentioned Konoha.

Now, three weeks since all letters were sent, and the only reply had been from the Salem Witches' Institute, a firm "No, thank you," on the Americans' part. It had been the day that great gray owl arrived that Ludo first took to keeping a bottle of firewhisky in his desk. When a fourth week passed with no replies, he fired (and rehired) Deirdre twice, both times for something which was his, if anyone's, fault. Finally, after thirty-three days, the owls from Côte d'Ivoire and Brazil arrived, both saying that their schools would be happy to participate. Ludo slept easier after that, even when Melbourne School of Magic was saddened to say that scheduling conflicts wouldn't permit them to join and the Venezuelan School of Wizardry declined without reason.

The letter from Konoha, embossed with a golden leaf seal, was finally placed into Ludo's hands after forty days, when the Ministry was almost completely decided upon the Brazilian school. Unable to hide the anxiety in his features, he tore the letter open.

-

_** Misters Bagman and Crouch,**_ (it read, in an unfamiliar scribble)

_** Firstly, I apologize for not replying sooner. I misplaced the letter you sent, and only just found it. Secondly, I fear I must tell you that the addressee of your kind invitation, Professor Sarutobi, Third Headmaster of Konoha Academy of Sorcery, passed on some time ago. I was named his successor and am now Headmistress. In an effort to dispel some of the misconceptions regarding Konoha's students, and to introduce these students to the international magical society, I happily accept your offer.**_

_** Sincerely,**_

_** Professor Tsunade  
**_

_** Fifth Headmistress**_

_** Konoha Academy of Sorcery**_

-

Staring in disbelief at the letter, Ludo was faintly aware of a tight feeling in his chest. It was only as he began to smile that he realized the feeling was excitement. He_ was_ slightly embarrassed that he had been unaware of Sarutobi's death, but that shame was sure to be alleviated when he sent his respects, along with the news that Konoha was chosen to participate.

Of course, that brought about the problem that Konoha _hadn't _been chosen to participate. It had been assumed that Konoha wasn't even going to reply, let alone agree. And the letter to the Brazilian school had only to be signed and sent. To change the decision now would set the Ministry back days, a bad decision with the Quidditch World Cup coming up so soon.

And yet…this was _Konoha_. For the Headmistress and students of such an historically isolated school to come to Hogwarts—well, it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, one Ludo would fight for, even if he wasn't a hundred percent sure why he cared so much.

He knew what his course of action ought to be, although he cringed inwardly at the idea.

He would have to convince Barty.

* * *

"Why, Bagman," said Crouch, frowning at the blonde man before him, "would we put ourselves at a clear disadvantage for the sake of some school that didn't even have the courtesy to reply promptly." 

"Come on, Barty! This is a rare opportunity," said Bagman brightly.

Crouch had been working tirelessly for months (for years, really, if you got down to it), and he had been almost virtually without complaint. He had watched Fudge serve as the Minister for more years than he cared to count, always unable to keep himself from silently noting how he, Crouch, would have handled the situation Fudge usually managed to bungle. Crouch was undoubtedly the hardest-working employee of the Ministry of Magic, and he had handled every blow dealt to him with dignity—all of which is merely a roundabout way of saying that he didn't have the time or patience to deal with the whims of Ludo Bagman, whom Crouch had never much cared for in the first place.

"Rare opportunity or not, it seems an unnecessary inconvenience to my department."

Bagman's round eyes seemed to narrow momentarily, and Crouch heard him murmur, "I knew you'd say that." Louder, Bagman said, "Look, Barty, I'll work extra hours—even _more_ extra hours. My department can take on some of your department's work. Anything. But this Tournament _has_ to be, I don't know, monumental, and—"

"_Monumental_?" Crouch repeated scornfully.

"Yes, and, without Konoha, it just won't be."

Crouch glared silently at the other man for a moment. "Yes, well…perhaps next time it will be 'monumental,'" he said. "However, it's too late—we're already behind schedule because of Maxime's rejection and working on the Cup. It's ridiculous to cause more trouble for ourselves."

"No, _dammit_, it's not. It's what our job _is_, Barty. We want to provide for the Hogwarts students the best tournament we can, don't we?" Crouch didn't have time to balk in reply, before Bagman added, "Yes, we bloody well do."

A very long, very awkward silence ensued, during which time Crouch stared at Bagman with a mixture of surprise and exasperation. Finally, after minutes of watching Bagman twitch, Crouch said, turning away from the former Beater with a shrug, "Do as you like. I have more important things to work on." Looking back at Bagman, he added, "Talk to my new assistant, Weatherby, before you leave. Ask for the letters."

Crouch retreated through a nearby door before he saw the smile light up Bagman's features.

* * *

Ludo sought out "Weatherby," for nearly fifteen minutes, before coming to the realization that Barty had been referring to Arthur Weasley's boy, Percy. The rail-thin redhead frowned suspiciously at Ludo while handing over two pieces of parchment and intoning, "_This _letter just needs to be signed. _This _is just a first draft of the rejection letter. Are you sure Mr. Crouch wanted you to have these?" 

"Yes, yes. Tell Arthur hello for me," said Ludo, taking the letters and reading them as he wandered back to his office. The Brazil letter would have to be completely rewritten, but the one to the school in Côte d'Ivoire only needed a little cleaning up. He would leave the writing of both of these letters—the ones delivering the bad news—to Deirdre. Conversely, _he_ would be writing the letter to Konoha.

-_**  
**_

_**To the Headmistress of Konoha Academy of Sorcery:**_

_**On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I would like to extend our sympathies for the loss of the great wizard Sarutobi. On a less somber note, I am pleased to accept your offer to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. Further information will be included in this letter, and please feel free to contact either myself or Barty Crouch from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Furthermore, I would like to express my own personal excitement to meet both you and the students of your fine school. This tournament will truly be monumental.**_

_** Ludo Bagman**_

_** Department of Magical Gaming and Sports**_

_-_

Ludo was at work until the early hours of the morning, but, that night, he slept with a smile on his face.

* * *

Author's Note: I know this is a rather slow-ish chapter, but don't worry, the gang from Konoha shows up in the next chapter! It should be longer, too. Sorry about the formatting issues with the letters...they were indented in the Word documen, and it looked considerably better. 

Next time (an excerpt from Chapter Two):

_There, in the doorway, stood the tall, dark figure that was Uchiha Sasuke, his lean frame clearly silhouetted as the sun filtered through the window. It was an impressive entrance, to say the least, and Sakura wondered idly if he'd planned it. Of course, if he'd planned it, there probably would have been a fog potion involved. After all, ambiance was everything._


	2. Dissipate

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

A/N: Review! Comment, critique, and ask questions! Any sort of input is great.

Many thanks to Audrey, for being the best beta a girl could ask for.

* * *

**Uzumaki Naruto and the Goblet of Fire**

_Chapter Two: Dissipate_

Haruno Sakura hated packing, although she had gotten rather good at it throughout the years. She had, in addition to mastering the art of folding, learned through trial-and-error just how much to pack and had developed several methods for remembering all important items (first year, when she had accidentally left the majority of her textbooks at home, sprang embarrassingly to mind); and, after only two years at school, Sakura had discovered the most space-effective process of packing, which saved her the trouble of lugging around several heavy trunks.

However, skilled as she might have been at this menial job, she still loathed it. She could say that it was all the work that bothered her, but that wasn't entirely true—after all, _folding_ could hardly be called _hard_ work (Sakura's father, a Muggle who worked nights in a egg processing plant and usually came home tired and reeking, would scoff if she even suggested such a thing).

If pressed, Sakura might admit that, to her, packing felt final. Every year, it heralded her departure from her home at the end of summer. Packing meant that goodbyes would be necessary, and she would be leaving her loved ones once again

Once finished packing, however, the melancholy would usually ebb away, and she would return to her customary good cheer. And by the time she arrived at the train station that would lead her to her school (this time via Apparation, a skill in which Sakura, at seventeen, was finally licensed), trunk in tow, she was usually ecstatic with the thought of reuniting with her classmates.

This summer, however, there was no melancholy, and therefore no need to dispel it with thoughts of the friendly faces awaiting her. This year was to be Sakura's final at Konoha Academy of Sorcery, a thought that filled her heart with some strange concoction of anticipation and nostalgia; a bittersweet solution, one with the unexpected side effect of diluting that ever-present longing resting below the surface of everything she did.

Sasuke.

The name had been on the tip of her tongue since before she had even known it. The name of the boy she had seen her first day at Konoha; the one with black hair and brooding eyes; the one she didn't know, but somehow felt she ought to.

Uchiha Sasuke.

He had been her first true crush, an attraction that was never reciprocated and never acknowledged, and now, it seemed, after six years, his grip on her heart felt as if it was loosening.

Sakura was confident that, over the summer, those thronging desires had finally dissipated, left behind with her childhood. For a time, she mourned the loss of both, but, in the end, she admitted that, although growing up might be difficult, it was an indisputable fact that everyone must do it.

Sakura liked to comfort herself with facts. Facts were easy—you memorize them, and you regurgitate them when asked.

"What is the crucial ingredient in an anti-aging potion?"

_That would be mercury, of course, Professor Tsunade. _

"What animal does the seal formed by putting your palms together, your fingers interlocked—_as such—_represent?"

_The serpent, Professor Asuma. What else? _

"What is the most important thing to remember when focusing your magic?"

_Why, Professor Kakashi, that would be that you must concentrate. Concentration is key. That, and correctly performing the hand seals, of course._

And, when Sakura asked herself, "Why don't I love Sasuke anymore?" she responded unhesitatingly, _Because the fact is that Uchiha Sasuke is unattainable._

Sakura hadn't been taught this in any class she had; Hopeless Crushes 101 was _not_ part of the curriculum. Still, she didn't doubt that she had learned that particular lesson—through every cold shoulder and disdainful glance, every time he ignored her and every time he denied her. Uchiha Sasuke was, without a doubt, unattainable.

Clutching a wooden picture frame in her hands—the last item to be packed—Sakura felt herself smile. Two faces smiled back at her; a third scowled. The girl in the photograph, a skinny girl with a high forehead, was winking as she threw her arms around the sullen boy, whose frown only deepened in response to her actions. Waving fervently from behind these two was a yellow-haired twelve-year-old with blue eyes as mischievous as his smirk.

No, Sasuke, the sulking pre-adolescent who had reluctantly sat before that camera halfway through Second Year, had not much changed as he aged. Although warmth had finally begun to tinge his once ice-cold surface, he was still very much the reserved and proud prodigy he had always been.

But the other boy, the boisterous blond—_he_ had changed. Once a selfish and arrogant troublemaker, Uzumaki Naruto was…well, still rather arrogant. However, Naruto had also learned compassion and the value of friendship and loyalty. Through hard work and self-belief, he had managed to prove his power time and time again. Naruto had grown, both in skill and maturity, more so than even Sasuke.

As for Sakura herself…She hoped that she had grown stronger.

Locking away the magical memento inside her trunk, she decided that she had.

* * *

If ever there was a person Sakura was simultaneously happy and irritated to see, it was Yamanaka Ino. With pale golden hair pulled high on her head in a ponytail and wide blue eyes, Ino was easily the prettiest girl at Konoha—or, if that title was _not_ rightfully hers, she had lain her claim to it anyway, and there were few who would dare question it.

It was with this cool confidence that Ino greeted Sakura on the train that would take them both to school. "Forehead Girl," she said, stopping in the doorway of the compartment Sakura occupied. "How was your summer?" she inquired blandly.

"Ino," Sakura said, betraying only a little of her relief to see the other girl so well. "It was great!" Flashing a brilliant smile to reinforce her statement, Sakura gestured for Ino to enter the compartment.

As she complied with this silent request, Ino smiled wider, so that almost all of her gleaming white teeth could be seen.

Eyes narrowing, Sakura realized that the act was not one of friendship, but was an unmistakable challenge. _Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?_ she thought, forcing the corners of her mouth up higher, ignoring the surprising amount of pain. As Ino's eternal rival, she vowed that she _would_ beat that pig girl at this game.

Much to Sakura's horror, however, with no effort at all, Ino's smile grew so that it seemed to reach her eyes.

The ache in Sakura's jaw doubled at the prospect of her countermove. And, thankfully, just as she prepared her lips to rise, a voice echoed through the corridor, a familiar voice calling, "Sakuraaaaa."

Sakura stood and began to ease the door open slowly, only to have something large and orange barreling right at her. Jumping out of the way just in time, Sakura turned to see Naruto, leaning against the glass of the window that overlooked a Japanese mountain range.

"Ow," the boy muttered, rubbing his forehead, which had apparently smacked into the window, before looking around and gathering his bearings. Spotting Sakura, he threw his arms around her in a great hug. She was surprised to find that he now surpassed her in height.

Shoving him away after a moment, she growled, "What are you doing, you idiot?" Proud as Sakura may have been of the boy, and happy as she might have been to see him, she didn't think that meant she had to be _nice_ to him.

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Naruto said, "You never wrote all summer!" His blue eyes dimmed a bit as he spotted Ino, who was glaring at him with lips pursed.

"I did too," Sakura protested, shutting the compartment door and looking back at Naruto, whose hands were placed on his hips.

"Nuh-uh!"

"I wrote you a few times," said Sakura, taking a seat tiredly across from Ino. "I just figured you were busy training with Master Jiraya."

Naruto frowned and plopped into the seat nearest him, beside Ino. "That pervert? All he did was go to the beach and watch girls change into their swimming suits."

"Don't call him a pervert! He's one of the legendary three! You're supposed to respect him," Sakura said automatically, although she was thinking that she wouldn't hesitate to smack Jiraya upside the head if she caught him peeping on her. "I'm _sure_ you learned something."

"Well," Naruto began, "he did teach me this one totally awesome move! Actually two. I'll show you later, okay?" At the top of his lungs, he added, "I doubt that bastard Sasuke learned anything so cool over _his_ summer."

Sakura opened her mouth to reply, but someone else beat her to the punch: "You'd be surprised. Moron."

There, in the doorway, stood the tall, dark figure that was Uchiha Sasuke, his lean frame clearly silhouetted as the sun filtered through the window. It was an impressive entrance, to say the least, and Sakura wondered idly if he'd planned it. Of course, if he had planned it, there probably would have been a fog potion involved. After all, ambiance was everything.

"Sasuke!" Sakura heard Ino squeal, pulling her from her peculiar reverie, and after only a second's hesitation, she followed suit.

Letting out an incomprehensible grunt of either acknowledgment or disdain, Sasuke took the remaining available seat, beside Sakura.

"Hi, Sasuke," Ino was saying, forcing Naruto out of his seat (and onto the floor) so that she could sit across from the prodigy in question. "Have you gotten taller?"

Knowing that the likelihood of Sasuke answering was on par with the odds of hell freezing over, Sakura said immediately, "Go away, Ino-Pig. Where are Shikamaru and Choji? You know that the first thing we're supposed to do is to find our group members. _Mine _are here, but I'm sure _yours_ are wondering where you went."

Snorting, Ino said, "I _did_ talk to them when I first got on the train. I left my stuff in their compartment, anyway. Besides, they probably didn't even notice I was gone."

As if on cue, the compartment door slid open once again, and an overweight boy, with a very round face, poked his head in. "Is Ino in here? Oh, hi, Sasuke. Sakura." Noticing the boy sprawled on the floor, Choji added, "Naruto."

"Choji." Ino sighed. "You aren't good with timing."

"I think he's perfect with timing," said Sakura, smiling smugly.

Choji furrowed his brow in confusion. "Ino, Shikamaru says that even though it's troublesome, we should probably sit together on the way there and get some studying done."

Stamping her foot childishly, Ino said, "Fine. Fine. I'm coming." Stepping over Naruto on her way out, she called sweetly over her shoulder, "See you later, Sasuke."

She received no reply.

Rising to his feet, Naruto resumed the seat he had been forced to vacate. "So, _Sasuke_," he said accusingly. "What did you learn this summer?"

However, it seemed that, no matter how much Naruto might pester him, Sasuke was not in the mood to answer questions. Instead, he remained silent, except for the occasional insult hurled Naruto's way.

Sakura, quickly growing bored with the conversation, began to study her fingernails. They were a fleshy pink color and clipped shorter than she would have preferred, but they were clean and strong and had never flaked or broken on her even once. She smiled wryly, glancing up at the two bickering boys near her. They were the same way: not quite ideal, but they had yet to fail her.

When she had been placed, at the beginning of her Second Year, into a group with Uzumaki Naruto, her heart had plummeted. She, a capable and intelligent twelve-year-old, hated everything about the immature orphan. When it turned out that Sasuke was also in the group, however, her heart moved from the pit of her stomach to being lodged somewhere in her throat. _Yes!_ she remembered thinking to herself. _True love conquers all!_

The three-person cells were carefully put together by Professor Iruka, Deputy Headmaster of Konoha and man in charge of teaching the basics to First Years. Arranged so that each group had a good dynamic and the approximately equal amount of strength, Sasuke and Naruto had been placed together to "balance" each other out. At first Sakura thought that Professor Iruka was just trying to spite either Naruto, or Sasuke, or both; after enough time with her group members, Sakura decided that the professor was just wise beyond his relatively meager years.

When it concerned Naruto and Sasuke, anyway.

Where _she_ fit into the dynamic, she didn't know. Naruto was like fire, and Sasuke was like wind, but, from what she could tell, she was nothing more than a cherry blossom.

It wasn't until she began working with Professor Tsunade that she realized her own worth. Sakura may very well have been a plant in this scenario, but if she was, it was an aloe plant, soothing and comforting. And for once her hands, her _healing_ hands, overshadowed that giant forehead of hers.

She had been lucky to find such a mentor as Professor Tsunade. And, yet, part of her wished it hadn't taken so long. At only thirteen years old, hadn't Sasuke and Naruto found their mentors in the form of Professor Kakashi, the genius, and Master Jiraya, one of the legendary three wizards of Konoha? Both boys had been strengthened considerably by their respective mentors—Sasuke had learned the _Chidori_, the electricity-harnessing spell; and Naruto had learned the _Rasengan _wind spell, which had been created by the Fourth Headmaster of Konoha.

Sakura keenly recalled both her envy and amazement upon discovering the skills of both boys. That Sasuke could achieve something so difficult did not seem so very strange to her—but that Naruto could too? That Naruto could learn a spell that was, arguably, even stronger than the one Sasuke had learned—why, it was unthinkable. And yet, it was true. Try as she might, Sakura couldn't deny it.

After the jealousy and the astonishment, there came the shame. It had taken her two more years and the instatement of Tsunade, granddaughter of the First Headmaster, for the embarrassment at being the weakest member of her team to finally dissipate.

Oh, she was still weak and insecure, and there were times when she was nothing more than a scared little girl. But Sakura also knew that, with her friends behind her, she could rise to any occasion.

* * *

"Let's go, you two," said Sakura, guiding her group members out of the train and up the dirt path that led to the school. Konoha Academy was a large, flat building the color of ash, and was completely unexceptional in every way. The only remarkable aspect of Konoha clearly lay in the expansive grounds, which were lush and green, and decorated with a small forest and two dozen areas designated for training.

As the other students rushed around the trio, Sakura murmured, "It's our last year, you know."

Sasuke sent her a slightly puzzled sideways glance, and Naruto said in an excited tone, "Yeah! It's great! The old woman already promised me a job here next year, which means I'm _this close_ to being the next Headmaster."

"Don't call Professor Tsunade that," Sakura reprimanded.

"A job? _Teaching_?" asked Sasuke incredulously. Looking Naruto over, he added, "You?"

Naruto, coming to a dead halt, put his hands to his hips. "What?" he said, narrowing his eyes at the black-haired boy, who had not stopped walking. "I'll make a great professor. My students will love and respect me."

"Any of _your_ students would fail out before they even make it to their third year," Sasuke said over his shoulder.

Shaking with indignation, Naruto yelled, "Wanna say that to my face?" As he rushed forward, presumably to beat Sasuke into a bloody pulp, Sakura grabbed hold of the back of his robes.

"Calm down, both of you," she instructed snappishly.

Arms folded across his chest, Sasuke turned to look at his teammates, who were both several feet behind him. "I," he pronounced carefully, "am calm."

Naruto shouted a few choice words in response.

"Let's just go inside, okay?" said Sakura beseechingly. "It's always fun to watch the Second Years get put into their groups." The ceremony was optional—Third Years and up weren't forced to attend. Many chose not to, but Sakura usually went.

"What's the point?" grumbled Naruto.

"It'll be the last chance we have to see it," Sakura said. "Well, the last chance me and Sasuke'll have to see it, anyway," she amended, remembering Naruto's future plans. She smiled at the blond boy. "Congratulations, though, Naruto. Really."

"…tions…" a voice mumbled.

"What was that, Sasuke?" Sakura asked.

"Nothing," he said, almost sheepishly. "I was just saying congratulations."

Naruto stuck his tongue out at the other boy.

Narrowing his eyes, Sasuke said, in a deceptively even tone, "Let's just go watch the ceremony."

Leading the way, Sakura took a deep breath. She loved Naruto and Sasuke dearly—they were her companions, her best friends. _But_, she thought, _boy, can they be tiring_.

* * *

It was common knowledge that Professor Iruka preferred less formality when it came to placing his former students into their teams. He felt the extravagance of a ceremony was unnecessary, and that the only necessary spectators were the professors. It was less common knowledge that the Headmistress agreed with him.

Sakura was aware of this only because Professor Tsunade had mentioned it to her one day during training.

"So pointless," the older woman had said. "The only fun thing about it is that every year I get to bet on who'll be stuck together."

After a moment of being scandalized, Sakura had asked, "Do you ever win?"

The Fifth had only laughed.

Personally, Sakura disagreed with both Professors Iruka and Tsunade. Being placed in your three man cells was the definitive sign that you truly were a student at Konoha, one of the few who could perform wandless magic. It was a life-changing moment, and having witnesses somehow made it seem more real.

Luckily, Professor Iruka's yearly protests were overridden by the rest of the staff, and the ceremony always went on as planned.

After depositing their possessions in their dormitories, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura made their way through several corridors, and down a flight of stairs, before exiting the building. Weaving their way down one of the several worn paths, they finally came upon the largest of the training areas. It was a flat clearing, overlooking a small pond, and bordered to one side by the forest. Professor Iruka was standing with his back to the forest, talking to Professor Kakashi, who looked rather disinterested. Facing these two were about fifteen twelve-year-olds, sitting cross-legged on the grass and chattering loudly. Farther back, a small crowd of other students—including a large number of First Years, who were required to attend—had gathered.

"Oh, look," Sakura said, pointing to the crowd. "It's Lee." Raising her hand to wave, she called, "Lee!"

Rock Lee, who seemed to have grown even taller, and, if possible, thinner, smiled when he saw Sakura. Shouting her name, he hurried over to her side. "How are you?" he asked. "How was your summer?"

"It was very good," she replied happily, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Naruto and Sasuke were beginning to sulk. Apparently she wasn't allowed to pay attention to anyone else. Trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes, she asked, "What did you do during your vacation?"

"I trained with Professor Gai, of course."

"Of course," she echoed. "Oh," she said, noticing that Professor Iruka was now speaking, and a Second Year was slowly making her way toward him. "I think the ceremony's started."

Lee grinned brightly. "See you later," he said, nodding slightly, before rushing back to the crowd.

Turning to Naruto and Sasuke, Sakura mused quietly, "All he ever does is train."

"He's trying to prove himself," said Sasuke, voice as low as ever. "If he wants to grow stronger than Neji—which is, I believe, his goal—he'll have to train. Neji is very strong."

Sakura sighed. "I guess he and Neji are like you and Naruto. You just keep egging each other on."

Arching his eyebrow, Sasuke said coldly, "I can't help it if that idiot is weaker than me."

'That idiot' barked suddenly, having overheard this statement, "Hey! Who're you callin' weak?"

"Shut up, Naruto!" squeaked Sakura, but it was too late: "Naruto!" a voice called loudly. "If you would please be quiet!" Sakura grimaced as she saw Naruto laugh nervously as he turned to face an agitated Iruka.

"Sorry!" Naruto yelled. "You can stop making your angry face."

Professor Iruka's eye twitched, but he said no more, and continued calling Second Years to the front.

"Come on," Sasuke said quietly in Sakura's ear. Catching her elbow in his hand, he said, "Let's join the crowd. We look conspicuous all the way over here."

Swallowing, she nodded, allowing herself to be led away by Sasuke, Naruto trailing behind them.

Although Sakura tried to pay attention during the ceremony, she found, with a sinking heart, that she couldn't. Because, when Sasuke touched her, something had been made very clear: her feelings for him hadn't died over the summer—they had just been dormant. And it had taken nothing more than his breath tickling her ear, his fingers brushing against her arm, his _presence_ at her side, to awaken the sleeping beast.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was a little more shippy than I would have liked. The point of it was just to let readers understand the relationships between our three characters. That is, how they've evolved and how they've stayed the same. Plus that last line—I just keep picturing _Sakura_ with the kyuubi…which is very odd. People's metaphorical beasts _always_ remind me of the kyuubi, though. I guess I just have Naruto on the brain! ... formatting is still driving me insane, too. This story is so much more aesthetically appealing as a word document.

Regarding the questions I've been asked:

**(1)** Basically, this takes place as if Sasuke never defected, and Orochimaru's not really after him (perhaps he's just a rising power). I know it's a stretch, but it was the only way to make this work without it getting _too_ complicated. Sasuke's still hell bent on avenging his family and everything, though. He just wouldn't be himself if he wasn't.

**(2)** This story will focus on several characters throughout the narration: Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura, mainly, as well as a bit of the main Harry Potter characters. I can't say _too_ much without revealing anything, though. Don't worry—most of you will get at least _some_ of your favorite character!

**(3)** Pairings. This fic isn't really a romance, but, what with the Yule Ball, there are some pairings that show up. I won't say who, because I'm mean like that (and I'm not 100 sure myself). I can tell you that, other than those brief and unimportant dates, they'll be some primarily one-sided SasuSaku (obviously, that's Sakura pining after Sasuke, just like in canon). And, sorry, but no shonen-ai (I've got nothing against shonen-ai--in fact, I love it; it's just not really my forte, particularly in the Naruto fandom). However, if you want to read deeper into what I write and say any pairing you care to think of is _implied_, then I won't stop you! ;)

Next time: _She stared at him for a long moment, but he did not squirm under her gaze. Finally, she stood, leaning over her desk and extending her hand, which he shook. "Very well. I can't begrudge you for loving what you do." With a sigh, she leaned closer to Iruka. "So," she said, lowering her voice a bit, "who do _you_ think ought to replace me?"_


	3. The Sharingan

Disclaimer: I am Kishimoto...okay, so I'm not. I'm also not JKR. Number of multimillion dollar franchises _I _own: zero. Don't sue.

A/N: Thanks to all those who took the time to review! Please continue to provide me with concrit. It feeds my brain.

Audrey, as always, you rock! All hail my beta reader.

* * *

**Uzumaki Naruto and the Goblet of Fire**

_Chapter Three: The Sharingan_

"Iruka, are you sure you're up to this?" questioned Tsunade, Headmistress of Konoha Academy, as she halfheartedly straightened the various curios littering her mahogany desk. Glancing up at the young man before her, she smiled and ran her hand along the top of her head, smoothing her silky blond hair.

The two were in the Headmistress's office, Tsunade perched behind her desk, and Iruka standing before it. He had been called in to see her during his lunch, as he had been preparing to dig in. Having gone without breakfast, he was now feeling quite hungry, although nothing on his face belied this weakness.

"It's not that I don't think you can do it—I'm just wondering if you actually want to," the Fifth continued, a wane smile still gracing her lips. "Running the whole school, plus teaching all the First Years. It's a difficult job; you'll be pretty exhausted. Are you sure you don't want me to call Jiraya in? The bastard owes me a favor, anyway, so I'm sure I could convince him to give you a hand, at least."

Putting his hands out in front of him, palms forward, Iruka replied kindly, "No, no. It's alright, really. Besides, I doubt Jiraya would be too pleased. Everyone knows how much he hates positions of leadership, and the only student he can even remotely stand is Naruto." He chuckled amicably, ignoring the slight discomfort of his empty stomach.

"True enough. I'm sure you'll do fine. The rest of the staff is more than happy to help out, and Shizune will be here to help things along."

"You're not bringing her with you?" Iruka asked, with some surprise. Everyone knew how heavily the Fifth relied on her personal secretary.

Tsunade shook her head. "I'd like to. However, we've discussed it, and we both feel she's more needed here. She'll be writing biweekly reports on how things are going, and also—"

"—assessments of my performance?" Iruka interjected, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Carefully, Tsunade responded, as she fiddled with a quill on her desk, "You are in line for a nice promotion Iruka. My health…isn't what it used to be. I guess that's what you get when you're vain. A few anti-aging potions too many, huh? I'll be retiring in a few more years, I'm almost sure of it." She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging.

"Tsunade...?" Iruka said, looking slightly uncomfortable as he addressed his boss.

"Oh, nothing. I don't know why I bother reminiscing—it really does no good." Her forced laughter fell flat. "In any case, Iruka, I'm sure you'll do fine running Konoha."

"Yes, I will. This year."

"What?" Her voice was distant, far away, as if she was only half-listening to Iruka.

"This year," Iruka said plainly, "I will run the school. But, next year, you will come back, and be Headmistress again." To her confused expression, as she focused on him once again, he said, reverting to a formality he was rarely required to take up with the Fifth, "I'm sorry, Professor Tsunade, but I don't _want_ a promotion. The job I have is the job that I desire."

She stared at him for a long moment, but, despite all his discomfort, he did not squirm under her inspection. Finally, she stood, leaning over her desk and extending her hand, which he quickly grasped and shook. "Very well. I can't begrudge you for loving what you do." Dropping Iruka's hand, she planted her own on her hips. "So," she said, lowering her voice a bit, "who do _you_ think ought to replace me?"

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Iruka said, slowly forming the words, "Hm. Perhaps—"

"Kakashi? Kakashi is a genius, but he has no sense of punctuality," said Tsunade dismissively. "Besides, I think he's like you—happy terrorizing the students in the role of a professor. Being the Headmaster would take all the fun out of it."

"_Actually_, I was going to say, perhaps Naruto." Iruka tried not to laugh at the Headmistress's reaction.

"Naruto? Naruto? He hasn't even graduated yet!"

Iruka smiled gently. "That's a good point. But he's as much a genius as Kakashi. He's on time more often than Kakashi. And, for as long as I've known Naruto, he's wanted to be the Headmaster of this school."

"He may very well be a genius, but he's not even seventeen years old, Iruka!"

"He will be in October. Besides, you've promised him a position teaching, haven't you?" Iruka reminded her. He added, in a placating tone, "I'm not saying that you immediately make him the Headmaster. I've not deluded myself into thinking Naruto is ready for anything of the sort. True, I may play favorites when it comes to him, but I do understand the difference between a good idea and a bad one."

Tsunade paused in her tirade, dropping tiredly to her wooden seat and letting her shoulders slump with exhaustion. "Then what _are_ you suggesting?"

"Stay on as Headmistress until you think Naruto is fit to replace you. That's all I ask."

With a frustrated sigh, Tsunade said, "Who knows how long that could take? Ten years—more, even. You think I have the time, or the energy, for ten more years in this job?"

Iruka didn't blink, didn't look away, didn't say a word. All he didn't was continue to stare at her.

"Iruka!" Groaning, Tsunade finally relented. "Okay, I'll _think_ about it. I'm making no promises."

Hiding his satisfaction, he replied, "That's all I have any right to ask."

"You have no right to ask me any of this, actually," she said, opening the door, and gesturing for him to exit.

"I can take a hint. I've got to get back to my class, anyway."

"Go, go." Waving him away, she added, voice light, "And, Iruka…when it comes to Naruto, I think we're all guilty of playing favorites."

He continued walking, showing no sign that he had heard her, save the small grin on his face—and even that quickly vanished as his stomach began to growl.

* * *

Naruto was getting sick of being surrounded by perverts.

First, he had spent his summer with Jiraya. Naruto did appreciate all that the old man had taught him, but Jiraya's lecherous ways when it came to a pretty—or even just a mildly attractive—woman were extremely irritating.

Now, he was back at school, and his cell leader, Professor Hatake Kakashi, revered genius, was once again reading _Make-Out Paradise_. And while Sasuke, Sakura, and he, Naruto, trained, too. The unfairness of it all never ceased to frustrate the sixteen-year-old wizard.

"Kakashi!" Naruto whined, as his shadow clones began to burst. He folded his arms across his chest stubbornly; he wasn't taking another second of this inattention. "Aren't you supposed to be watching us?" he asked pointedly.

Sakura sighed loudly and returned to forming the seal of the tiger. Many times she had made this very point to their cell leader, and she had never been paid any heed. It was clear that she doubted Naruto's complaints would receive any more of an acknowledgement.

"I'm more than capable of multitasking, Naruto," the professor said, his eyes never leaving the pages of the book. "Which reminds me," he added, turning the page with a flick of his thumb, "Sasuke, did you, in addition to enjoying your summer, do as I asked?"

Sasuke visibly stiffened. Turning slowly away from Sakura, whom he'd been quietly advising on her still-weak technique, he said, voice low, "Yes, Professor."

"You mean that secret technique you learned?" Naruto asked immediately, whirling to face Sasuke. He'd been pondering over Sasuke's new technique since he had found out that it existed. Part of Naruto that was simply curious; another was unnecessarily jealous, fearing that the other boy had finally surpassed him in power; and a final part, a part Naruto didn't want to exist, was almost hurt. He couldn't understand why that jerk always had to keep everything to himself. Hadn't Sasuke realized by now that Naruto was his friend? Turning accusatory eyes on the inky-haired boy, he said, "You _better_ tell us!"

"It's not a secret," Sasuke snapped. It was evident—both in his features and his voice—that he did not want this conversation to continue.

Naruto didn't give a damn what Sasuke wanted. "Well, then, what did you learn?" the blond asked, looking smug. To rile his friend up, he added, "I bet it's not all that cool."

Sakura, who, Naruto had noticed, had been unusually quiet the previous few days, merely nodded her encouragement towards Sasuke, her hands clasped in front of her. "Yes, what?" she asked.

The Uchiha looked away, frowning. Dark eyes downcast, he muttered, "I've finally managed to master the Sharingan Spell."

Naruto arched his eyebrow at Sasuke's tone, one heavy with some intangible feeling the younger boy could not understand, while Sakura gasped, unable to hide how impressed she was. "Wow, Sasuke, that's _amazing_," she breathed, the familiar faint light of adoration shining in her eyes.

There came no reply from Sasuke. His eyes were turned to his companions, but something in them made it clear that he was not seeing them. Naruto dreaded to think what it was Sasuke was thinking of, though, if he knew the other boy at all, he was fairly certain he could guess. Sasuke's thoughts were never far from his family—either those who had died so long ago, or he who still lived and walked the earth.

"Well," Naruto said finally, shattering the awkward silence. "What _I_ learned was so much cooler than that!"

"Then," Kakashi said, also sensing the tension, as he slipped his book into the folds of his robes and stepping forward. "Then, I'd say that a demonstration is in order, Naruto."

"Sure!" exclaimed Naruto, beaming. Proudly, he stepped forward, moving in front of the other three as they backed away, allowing him room to demonstrate. He ignored the faint clenching in his stomach—a strange anxiety he could only logically attribute to nervousness; his pride protested against _that _estimation, however, and he simply settled for focusing on gathering his chakra around him.

Glowing a fierce red-orange, the chakra began to swirl around his body, as it fashioned itself into the form of a large, clawed arm, which shadowed his own right arm. He felt the slight transformation in his body as well—the changes in his face, eyes, fingernails. He was allowing the Kyuubi a dangerous amount of reign over his body. The power it afforded him was both a gift and a curse; and in either case, he knew he had to be careful.

He glanced up, letting his concentration begin to slip. The looks on his companions faces were not what he expected: Kakashi looked surprised; Sakura looked worried; Sasuke looked completely passive. Naruto resisted the urge to growl at the last of the three. Couldn't he show a little emotion, _something_?

Sakura's wide eyes caught his attention.

His friends had seen him before in his part-transformation. He supposed they probably knew, or at least _almost_ knew, what was in him. It was impossible that they had repeatedly missed his occasionally fox-like appearance, or the form his chakra would sometimes take. But they had never seen him with such a controlled use of this mysterious red chakra.

Hesitantly, he explained, "I can kind of direct where the arm goes. It's a great use in a fight." The corners of his mouth lifted in what he imagined was a smile, as he proved his words true.

The very picture of tranquility, Kakashi finally nodded. "I can imagine. That's very impressive, Naruto."

Shaking herself, Sakura said, "Professor Kakashi's right. You're getting very strong. That's…wow, Naruto."

Naruto looked expectantly to Sasuke, but the other boy was already turning away. "Alright," the Uchiha was saying. "That's enough of that. Let's return to training."

Dropping to the ground tiredly, Naruto sighed. The others were slowly shuffling away, returning to their own training, and he could already feel the effects of the fox beginning to disappear.

* * *

"Sasuke," Sakura whispered hesitantly to the Uchiha. He glanced sharply at her, tacitly warning her to remain silent, but, while she once might have heeded his command, her every action was no longer ruled by him. "You know, you really ought to have given Naruto a little praise. That technique was—"

"—amazing?" Sasuke guessed, voice flat.

Blushing a little, she said, "Well, yes. I just…do you realize how much he's grown these past few years? From when he was twelve years old and we all hated him, to now? He's strong, Sasuke."

"Is he stronger than me, then?"

Sakura froze, surprised. She ought to have expected it, that, eventually, it would all come back around to Sasuke's skills and Sasuke's failings—it usually did. Fumbling for words, she stuttered, "No. No. He's just…you've got _different_ strengths." With a sigh, she added, "And it's not like you didn't learn anything this summer. You mastered the Sharingan Spell, Sasuke! Naruto will never be able to say that."

His eyes flashed. "By the time _he_ was my age, he'd long since mastered it." Voice dropping even lower, he growled, "I'll never catch up to him."

There was no mistaking the "him" Sasuke was referring to. Sakura knew of her friend's bloody past, had learned about it at the beginning of her third year with no small amount of horror. Everyone else seemed to know, Naruto included (for he'd been the one who told her)—he'd even had a run-in with the devious Itachi. After hearing the story, her heart had broken for the Sasuke, and she'd been forced to face her own helplessness when it came to comforting the young prodigy with a heart so cold.

"Professor Tsunade?" Sakura remembered tentatively asking one chilly day, shortly after becoming the Headmistress's student. "Does healing only work on the flesh? Or…is it possible to heal someone who's _emotionally_ damaged?"

The Headmistress had known what—_who­—_Sakura was speaking of, which is why she'd looked so sad as she delivered a reply in the negative.

At present, Sakura didn't know what to say to Sasuke. She _never _knew what to say to Sasuke, but that didn't stop her from trying. She settled for putting a gentle hand to his arm.

In a flash, he pulled away from her, not even glancing back to see her dismayed face. "I will get stronger," he vowed under his breath. "Whatever it takes, I'll get stronger."

Sakura tried to ignore the fear those words instilled within her.

* * *

The Sharingan Spell was the creation of Uchiha Kazuki, a wizard who had lived some four hundred years before Sasuke. Kazuki life had not been long—only a scant twenty-eight years—but every moment of that time had been well-spent.

Academic by nature, Kazuki devoted his entire early childhood to studying magic. At first, he studied all of the usual subjects—transfiguration, charms, potions. However, he soon found himself fascinated by the magic behind the creation of a spell, a technique very few knew. At only thirteen years old, he roamed Japan, searching for someone who knew the ancient magic; and then, still dissatisfied with what he had learned, Kazuki left the country, seeking whatever knowledge he could gain.

It was on a small island off the coast of China that Kazuki finally found a mage well-versed in the art of spell construction. The mage was a wizened creature, skin leathery and wrinkled, body frighteningly frail, but when he spoke, his voice was strong: "I will show you, Uchiha, the way of construction. But you must promise not to falter or resign—you must be sure in your choice now, and then I will become your teacher."

Kazuki had been traveling for months, and, at the mage's words, he felt his legs give out beneath him. Fighting his exhaustion, Kazuki settled himself on the ground, knowing he didn't have the energy to move. For many hours, he sat in contemplation, understanding the gravity of the situation. Finally, he stood, turned to the mage, who had been meditating beside him, and said significantly, "_Teacher_, I am certain that this is what I want."

Kazuki lived on the tiny isle until the mage died of old age. Distraught that his teacher had expired so unexpectedly, Kazuki had despaired over what he ought to do next. It finally occurred to him that now was the time to return to Japan.

The trip was arduous, but, with his strengthened skills in magic, he survived, and, at the seventeen years old, Kazuki arrived home. His first action was to marry a young witch, who bore his heir. His legacy secured, he set himself to the task of constructing his own spell. He succeeded, but died very soon thereafter, leaving the Sharingan as his gift to his son and the future generations of Uchihas.

Kazuki's blood had been a primary component of the spell, which meant that only those who shared his blood—in other words, Uchihas—could perform and master the spell. However, full mastery was very difficult to achieve, and those who did so were few and far between, wizards who'd spent decades working with the Sharingan.

For this reason, one young wizard, long after Kazuki's time, was considered such a genius. He mastered the Sharingan Spell at only eight years old. His name was Uchiha Itachi.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update! This chapter isn't nearly as long as I'd like, but I decided something was better than nothing. I'm hoping this chapter answered some of the questions people had regarding the Kyuubi, as well as a bit about Sasuke and Itachi.

Oh, and...just to clarify, Sasuke didn't just _learn _the Sharingan. He _mastered _it, which is a whole different story. The idea is that learning it is fairly difficult (so Sasuke is a genius for having just done that at a young age), but _mastery_ is something that takes years and years and years. Our dear Sasuke mastered it when he was 17, which is a huge achievement in and of itself. He really ought to be like "holy hell, that's awesome, go me," but, since Itachi mastered it at eight, Sasuke's more like, "holy hell, why I am so weak?" Of course, Sasuke's hasn't figured out the Mangekyou Sharingan—or if he has, he's not quite ready to kill his best friend to get it. Thanks to Orochimaru being conveniently absent (shifts eyes What, me screwing around with the story a ridiculous amount? _Never_…), Sasuke's evilness has yet to be fully ripened.

Next time: _"I'll be the champion, you just wait and see!" Naruto boasted loudly to Sasuke, who merely snorted into his bowl of ramen, muttering "idiot" under his breath._


	4. Departure

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling; Naruto is owned by Masashi Kishimoto. I am neither, unfortunately.

Author's Note: Thanks to all those who have taken the time to review! You're all awesome. Your opinions, ideas, and questions are much appreciated. Please continue to provide me with concrit.

Thanks again to Audrey, my beta reader (who I just realized you probably ought to know is dragonmaiden08 on author of The Guards, a Naruto/Harry Potter WIP that my story is aspiring to be as good as).

* * *

**Uzumaki Naruto and the Goblet of Fire**

**-- **

_Chapter Four: Departure_

For five weeks school had been in session, and for five weeks Tsunade had been wondering when she ought to announce to that Konoha was participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Shizune continually pestered her about it, saying that it was best to tell them sooner rather than later, and muttering something about how ripping the Band-Aid off quickly was more painless; but, Tsunade, being a pureblood, didn't know what a Band-Aid was, so she'd simply shook her head at her assistant and insisted she would tell the students when the time was right.

The right time, it turned out, was a fortnight before she and the eligible students were set to leave for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It wasn't that she'd been afraid to make the announcement. What was there to fear? It had just been that Tsunade had known that, once word about the Tournament was out, she would be bombarded not only by faculty, wondering how things would be run, but by students, demanding to know more than she particularly felt like telling them.

There was one student in particular whose reaction she dreaded. Uzumaki Naruto, of course, would make a spectacle of himself, something that was no longer acceptable. Naruto was going to become a part of Konoha's staff next year (she'd even been giving some thought to giving him _her_ position in the near future), and behaving like a child reflected poorly on the school.

Tsunade was fond of the boy, she had to admit. At first, it was because he reminded her so much of those she had loved and lost, but, gradually, she had come to admire Naruto for himself. He was so strong-willed and temperamental, but he had a fiery spirit like none she had ever seen. Offering him a position at Konoha had seemed like natural step, now that he was graduating; perhaps because, since the moment she had known Naruto, she had been keenly aware of his desire to be Headmaster.

Nevertheless, the Fifth was also aware of the fact that Naruto had a lot of growing up to do before he would be ready to replace her. It was true that he had already grown tremendously. Nevertheless, he was still so young, both in age and maturity. He wasn't ready for such responsibility just yet.

But he _was_ going to be a professor—moreover, he was going to be teaching children he had gone to school with only one year before. And, for that reason, Tsunade prayed that Naruto would be able to control his nearly irrepressible dramatic flair just this once.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Attendance was mandatory, Kakashi had told them, when he mentioned that the Headmistress was calling all of the students together in the same large clearing that the Second Years had been sorted in. With his one visible eye twinkling, he'd added, "She also said to be punctual, but that might not've been directed to you three."

Sitting cross-legged beside the rest of the Seventh Years on the soft grass, Sasuke surreptitiously let his eyes wander across the small crowd of students and staff. Kakashi was nowhere in sight. Holding back a sigh, Sasuke noticed that he wasn't in the least surprised. After all, Kakashi was as well known for his tardiness as he was for his brilliance, even in the face of the Fifth's threats.

As a matter of fact, Sasuke quickly gathered that Kakashi's absence had also been noted by Tsunade. She was scanning the crowd, eyes sharp, with her hands planted firmly on either hip and her lips pursed, uncommonly beautiful in her fury.

"Professor Tsunade looks angry, doesn't she?" Sakura murmured beside the Uchiha, following his gaze. "Training's going to be grueling later," she added matter-of-factly, no hint of complaint in her voice.

Once again, Sasuke found himself surprised by her lack of grumbling or whining; Sakura's maturity continued to startle him. Every now and then it would dawn on him that she was no longer the little girl with a crush on him, and each time it was like an epiphany.

Though he would never admit it, Sasuke was also very proud of his other teammate (when he was not feeling contemptuous of Naruto's stupidity or jealous of his strength). However, it was apparent to anyone that Naruto's power was immense, and, although it pained Sasuke to acknowledge it (even just within his own mind), it was also true that, with more training, Naruto would have little trouble becoming the strongest wielder of wandless magic anyone had ever seen.

Of course, Sasuke told himself, Naruto had the added advantage of the Kyuubi.

It had been fairly easy for Sasuke to deduce what had been sealed inside of his friend, once he had recognized the signs for what they were. And though he was reasonably certain that they too were aware, Sasuke had never dared say anything to Sakura or Kakashi regarding his realization; and, naturally, he hadn't breathed a word of it to Naruto. It was, after all, Naruto's business, and Sasuke knew that he had no right to pry. Besides, he understood wanting to keep things to oneself.

"Hey," the blonde boy said suddenly, and, much to Sasuke's annoyance, poking the Uchiha on the shoulder and pulling him from his reverie. "Do you know what this is about?" Naruto inclined his head toward where Tsunade and the rest of the professors (except Kakashi, who was still conspicuously absent) were gathered.

"How the hell should I know?" replied Sasuke lazily. He glanced at the girl to his right, then at Naruto, to his left. "Ask _her_."

"Well?" Naruto questioned, sounding expectant.

Tiredly, Sakura said, running a hand through her short hair, "I don't know anything. Professor Tsunade has been working day and night on _something_ lately, but I don't know what it is."

"You didn't ask?"

"No, Naruto, I didn't. Don't sound so scandalized. It wasn't any of my business, after all," Sakura responded firmly, but Sasuke couldn't miss the faint trace of curiosity lingering in her words. She'd wanted to ask, but propriety kept her from doing so.

It really was amazing how different she was from he and Naruto. They wouldn't hesitate to ask their mentors anything they wanted to, whether it was proper or not; Naruto, in particular, seemed completely unconcerned by manners and politeness, regularly calling Jiraya a pervert—and worse—both to the legendary wizard's face and behind his back.

But Sakura was not that way, had never been that way, in fact. Rule-abiding and respectful, that was simply how Sakura was.

As Tsunade began to speak over the chattering students, Sasuke turned his attention to the Headmistress. She was smiling brightly as she addressed her congregation. "Students," she said in a mild voice. "At the beginning of this summer, Konoha Academy received a letter from the British Ministry of Magic. Our school was invited to participate in the legendary Triwizard Tournament this year, to be held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The students began to buzz with confusion. Sasuke quirked an eyebrow, choosing to remain silent and wait for the Headmistress to finish her speech.

"The Tournament first began as a way for three of the European schools of magic to meet and compete in a series of events for the glory, as well as a cash prize. For over a century, however, the Tournament has not been held. Only recently, the Ministry of Magic decided to attempt to reinstate it. One of the traditional three schools declined, and we are to fill their spot.

"I will accompany all students who will be seventeen years and older by the thirtieth of October to Hogwarts, where we will stay for the greater portion of the year. One of these students will be chosen as our school's champion to represent us in the tournament."

Sasuke heard Sakura gasp softly. "We're _leaving_?" she mumbled in disbelief.

Tsunade continued, "Those students not chosen will remain at Hogwarts with the champion, and you'll be expected to cheer whoever _is_ chosen on." In a confident voice, she added, "Remember, we want to win this thing."

The Headmistress continued speaking, lowering her voice by a few decibels, so that Sasuke could no longer hear her over the din of protesting students, exclaiming over the supposed injustice of the age restriction and pointing jealously toward the Seventh Years.

"It's our last year," said Sakura, clutching onto the sleeve of Sasuke's robe. "How can we be leaving?" She looked imploringly to the boy, who responded only by determinedly ignoring her.

"Everyone!" Tsunade's voice was very loud as she brought the students back to attention, her patience clearly wearing thin. "I'll repeat: Those students eligible to enter the tournament, immediately make your way to the dining hall, where I'll go into more detail as to what will be happening. If anyone has any questions at a later date, don't hesitate to ask myself; Professor Iruka, who will be my temporary replacement; or your cell leader. Dismissed."

As the other students began slowly dispersing, breaking off into small, gossiping clusters of boys and girls, Sasuke got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his robes as he did so. With a glance to make sure Naruto and Sakura were following, he swiftly made his way across the grounds and into the main building, cutting straight to the dining hall as Tsunade had instructed.

All of this had been done without a word to either of his teammates, although the two of _them_ were certainly not hesitating to carry on a conversation, their words laced with astonishment and excitement—and, in Sakura's case, worry. Sasuke tuned them out easily; after all, over the years, he'd had plenty of practice doing just that.

Sasuke had to admit that his interest had also been piqued by Tsunade's short announcement, and, as he took a sat on one of the rigid-backed wooden chairs that had been arranged in a few uneven rows in the dining hall, he murmured to himself, "A school champion, huh?"

"Look, Sasuke—it's Professor Kakashi," Sakura whispered, abruptly ending the discussion she'd been having with Naruto. She pointed toward the elite wizard, who was engaged in conversation with Iruka, standing a few meters off from where the eligible students had been gathered.

"Guess he decided to show up after all. Bet the old woman told him off," said Naruto in a loud, amused voice, but his laughter broke off when Kakashi abruptly swung his gaze toward the trio and raised two fingers in greeting, his eyebrow cocked knowingly.

Sasuke snorted. "You're an idiot, Naruto. He can obviously hear you."

"And how many times have I told you not to call Professor Tsunade 'old woman'?" scolded Sakura, rolling her eyes at the blonde boy. "Honestly, she's going to be your boss next year—you've got to learn to show her a little respect."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Naruto replied noncommittally. Sasuke had to resist the urge to snort again.

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Tsunade swept into the medium-sized room, an aggravated expression on her face as she walked past the plain oak tables and dusty tapestries. In such a plain room, she stood out, with her expensively exquisite—and daringly low-cut—robes, which brushed against the floor as she moved. Finally, she came to a full halt before the small group of students, folding her arms across her generous bust as she surveyed them.

"Not many of you, are there?" she stated, eyes sweeping across the familiar faces. "Let's see. Yes, all of you are Seventh Years, too." Glancing to Iruka, she said, "Do you have the class list for Seventh Year?" Catching sight of Kakashi, she added in a clipped tone, "I'll speak with _you_ later."

Iruka dug through a bag he had with him, withdrawing a sheet of parchment. He handed over the class roster, glancing from Tsunade to Kakashi in concern. Kakashi merely smiled blithely and took a seat, thumbing through the pages of _Make-Out Paradise_.

"Thank you," Tsunade said, looking down at the parchment. To the students, she said, "Please say 'here' when I call your name. Aburame Shino."

"Here," said a voice solemnly. Tsunade's eyes sought out the speaker from the group. Quickly, she spotted him, his eyes hidden behind the lenses of his black sunglasses.

"Ah, Shino, right." She made a mark beside his name. "Akimichi Choji."

A chubby boy with wild hair said, "Here," but his words were muffled by the chips he was munching on.

"Haruno Sakura."

"Here, Professor," Sakura replied promptly.

Tsunade smiled at the girl. "Sakura, good. Now…Hyuuga Hinata?" There were several seconds of silence, before Tsunade repeated, "Hyuuga Hinata?"

Finally, Shino said, "She isn't seventeen."

"Oh. Really?" Tsunade looked to Hinata's cousin, Neji, for confirmation. "Is that right?"

In an even voice, Neji confirmed, "Her birthday is in December."

Furrowing her brow, Tsunade sighed. "Okay, then." She scribbled a note to herself in the margin beside Hinata's name. "Hyuuga Neji….obviously here. Inuzuka Kiba?"

"Here," the boy said, his response emphasized by a loud yap from his dog, Akamaru.

"Nara Shikamaru."

"Here."

"Rock Lee."

"Here!"

"Uchiha Sasuke."

"Here."

"Uzumaki Naruto." Tsunade tried to hold back her cringe at what was coming.

"I'm here!" the familiar voice announced loudly, jumping to his feet. However, that was all he did, and Tsunade smiled faintly to herself at his restraint.

"Now…Yamanaka Ino."

"Here."

Tsunade put a mark by the final name. "Great. Now, did I miss anyone?"

"You didn't call my name, Professor," said a tall girl—the oldest of all of the students, in fact—with her dark hair pulled into two buns. She was standing, one hand raised in question.

"Oh, Tenten," exclaimed the Headmistress. "I'm sorry. I must've just overlooked your name. Ah, yes, here it is." Carefully, she put a mark by the name. "Anyone else? Good." Tsunade folded the paper and slipped it into her robes.

"Now, I suppose you're all wondering exactly what this Triwizard Tournament is. As I said, it is a competition between three wizarding schools. From each school, an impartial judge will choose a single champion." Tsunade could already see the glowing light of excitement in Naruto's eyes. "That champion will compete in a series of tasks against the champions from the other schools, and one winner will be determined.

"All of you are eligible to be considered for the Tournament. However, you must remember that, if chosen, you can't back out." Tsunade noticed Sakura raising her hand hesitantly. "Yes?" she said, pointing to her apprentice.

With a wavering voice, Sakura asked, "What about training and lessons? How are we supposed to learn at another school?"

Tsunade nodded. "I understand your concern, Sakura, but don't worry. I myself will be overseeing everyone's training, as your respective cell leaders need to stay behind to help run the school in my absence. All of you will, of course, be excused from final exams."

"Great!" Naruto cried happily.

"We'll be arriving at Hogwarts on October 30, and we won't return until the very end of the school year, so don't pack lightly. And don't forget to bring your dress robes. Any other questions?"

"Will we still have a graduation ceremony?" It was Sakura again, still looking a little hopeless.

With a soft smile, Tsunade said, "Yes. We'll be back in time for a graduation ceremony. Don't worry; you and Sasuke will still get the chance to fight over the valedictorian spot."

Sakura blushed faintly and looked away.

"Okay, anything else? No? Okay, will one of Hyuuga Hinata's teammates please fetch her for me?" Kiba volunteered, exiting the room, with his dog trailing behind him. "Good. Everyone, you're dismissed."

At this final word, the students erupted in noise, filling the dining hall with noise, despite how few of them there really were. Loudest of all was Naruto, proudly boasting that he would be Konoha's champion no matter what.

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"Kakashi, while I'm waiting for Miss Hyuuga, maybe you'd like to have a word with me?"

Kakashi blinked up at the imperious Headmistress, considered her words for a moment, and then, closing his book, agreed, "Alright."

There was a nervous cough from Iruka, who was still in the room. The other two glanced at him as he said, "Right, I'll just…" before slipping away to check on the First Years, who he imagined were already running wild.

Neither Kakashi nor Tsunade made any move to speak. Finally, with a groan of exhaustion, Tsunade harangued, "I understand that promptness is not exactly one of your strengths, and, honestly, I don't really mind that you didn't show up at my announcement today. _However_, I'm worried about how much I can depend on you during these next few months. Iruka's going to be overworked, and I need the rest of the staff to help him, and if you can't even find the time to show up to a short instructional meeting, how do I know that you're going to find time to show up when he really needs it?"

"I _was_ going to come to the meeting," Kakashi explained gently. "However, I've been spending the past few weeks trying to get into contact with Jiraya, and I only just succeeded in doing so a few minutes before the announcement was going to take place. I prioritized."

"Jiraya?" Tsunade questioned, forgetting her irritation with the genius.

"You know, Naruto plans on entering the Tournament."

Tsunade laughed. "I know. I heard. Are you honestly surprised by this?"

Kakashi put his hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it tiredly. "No, but, if he's chosen—and, let's face it, in all likelihood, he will be—he will use a new technique Jiraya taught him this summer."

"Why is that a problem?"

Sighing, the younger of the two felt himself frown. "This technique, Naruto demonstrated it for me, as well as Sasuke and Sakura. It harnesses the power of the Kyuubi, uses the fox-demon's chakra as a weapon, in fact. No, it's more than that. It gives the Kyuubi some control over Naruto's body."

Tsunade let out a small gasp of surprise.

"According to Jiraya, he only taught Naruto the technique in the event that an emergency happened, and Naruto had no other choice. But I'm afraid Naruto, in his quest to win, won't hesitate to use it again, when it's not necessary. What Naruto demonstrated was only a fraction of the actual technique—the full technique would be too powerful for Naruto to handle for too long."

"How dangerous is it, Kakashi?" demanded Tsunade, trying to think past her own shock.

Kakashi shrugged. "I don't know, even Jiraya doesn't know. If you want my best guess, I'd say it's potentially deadly, both to others and to Naruto himself."

Letting this information sink in, Tsunade was silent for a moment. Then, she assured Kakashi, "I'll take care of it." Under her breath, she muttered, "I'm going to _kill_ Jiraya."

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There had always been an unfathomable amount of insecurity within Hyuuga Hinata, and everyone seemed aware of it. She'd always been weak, in everyone's eyes, even her own. There were many others more suitable to the role of Konoha's champion than she. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed by the fact that she would not be allowed to join her classmates at Hogwarts School.

She was the youngest of her year, and would not meet the age restriction by the end of October, and, for that reason, would spend her final year at Konoha on her own, without her teammates, cousin, or Uzumaki Naruto.

A blush rose to her cheeks as she thought about the blue-eyed boy. For as long as she could remember, she had admired him—admired his confidence, his pride, his ambition. And he had shown her so much kindness. Her pale face grew even redder.

"Hinata!" a voice called, snapping the Hyuuga from her thoughts. "Hinata, there you are. I should've figured you'd be here," Kiba was saying, a bright smile on his face. "You always like the quiet of the library."

Hinata looked up at her teammate, slight confusion on her face. "I-is the meeting with Professor Tsunade over?"

"Yeah," Kiba said, dropping into the seat next to Hinata's. "She sent me to get you."

"Wh-what for?"

Kiba shrugged. "Well, since you're the only Seventh Year not old enough to enter the Tournament…I bet it has something to do with that." Akamaru barked in agreement.

Hinata stood and began gathering her books, but Kiba said, "Don't worry about it. Go see the Headmistress. I'll take your stuff back to your room, alright?"

"Thanks," responded Hinata shyly, setting the books back down. "See you later."

"Bye!"

The walk from the library to the dining hall was fairly short, and Hinata made the trip in only a few minutes. She hesitated at the closed double-doors, not sure whether she should enter or knock. Just as she resolved to knock, the doors swung open, and Professor Kakashi quickly strode past her, not even seeming to notice that she was there.

Professor Tsunade caught a glimpse of Hinata, fist still poised in the air, ready to knock, and called to her, "Hinata! Come here, please."

Hinata slowly approached the Headmistress. "Professor," she greeted softly when she stood before the older woman, nervously touching the tips of her forefingers together.

"Hinata, your teammates and your cousin tell me that you won't be eligible to participate in the Tournament. Is that right?" Professor Tsunade was looking down at the dark-haired girl, a gentle expression on her face.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

The Fifth lay a hand on Hinata's shoulder, and the girl squeaked with surprise. "Are you aware that you are the only Seventh Year in this predicament?"

Biting her lip, Hinata nodded.

"It seems cruel to just leave you behind, when all of your classmates will be gone. I'm sure Kurenai is willing to continue instructing you, however, I first wanted to ask if you would prefer to accompany everyone to Hogwarts. The only stipulation I have is that you don't attempt to enter yourself into the Triwizard Tournament."

"Really?" Hinata glanced up at the Headmistress, unable to hide her happiness.

Tsunade nodded. "Just don't mention that you're underage to anyone from the other schools, and there should be no problem. Is that what you'd like to do then?"

"Yes," replied Hinata, a soft smile forming.

"Okay. Then be sure to be packed by October 30. It's going to be a hell of a time."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

You may have noticed that my preview for this chapter can't actually be found in this chapter! That's because this chapter went through a few major rewrites until I got it so that I was satisfied with it (though not happy with it, of course, because I never am).

And, yes, I'm still screwing around with the formatting. It's still irritating me.

By the way, I absolutely _hate_ writing Tsunade. She keeps coming off as a bitch when I write her. Except in the last scene, at which point, she does a complete 180. Not much of a fan of writing Hinata or Sasuke or, really, anyone but Sakura, for that matter. For some reason, I like writing Sakura. Unfortunately, there are several _other_ characters that I've kind of got to include, even if I'm bad at writing them.

**Next time:**

It's the Harry Potter gang's turn to show up. Hermione explains the basic principles behind wandless magic for her poor, uninformed friends.

_Hermione sighed, her usual preparation for entering into a lecture. "From what I've read," she began, looking at her friends with a serious expression, "wandless magic is all based around the idea of chakra."_


	5. The Students of Konoha

Disclaimer: Neither are mine. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and Naruto belongs to Kishimoto-san.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for taking the time to review my story. I love receiving your opinions, be they favorable or unfavorable, so please continue to provide me with your comments, questions, and concrit!

Thanks to Audrey (dragonmaiden08), my beta reader. It's all love.

Also, I'd like to give a belated thanks to Lady Shinigami, who helped me a lot with the original development of this story, working out just _how_ this whole thing was gonna work and all. Without her and Audrey, I'm certain this story never would've even gotten off the ground.

* * *

**Uzumaki Naruto and the Goblet of Fire**

**--**

_Chapter Five: The Students of Konoha_

"Wandless magic?" Harry Potter repeated, a look of surprise on his face, as he addressed his redheaded best friend, Ron Weasley.

Ron nodded, simultaneously biting into his sandwich and checking the time. The two boys were eating lunch in the Great Hall, and discussing the Triwizard Tournament, a topic that the students at Hogwarts had been gossiping about since Dumbledore had made his announcement a few days earlier. "That's what Hermione says, anyway," Ron said skeptically. "_I_ don't get it. Without wands? How do they do it?"

"Still talking about Konoha Academy?" a voice said from behind the youngest Weasley son. "Honestly, Ron, wandless magic is hardly the mystery you think it is."

"Well, for you, obviously," Ron replied, rolling his eyes at Hermione as she took a seat beside him, dropping her books unceremoniously onto the table. "If you know so much, explain it."

Hermione sighed, her usual preparation for entering into a lecture. "From what I've read," she began, looking at her friends with a serious expression, "wandless magic is all based around the idea of chakra."

"Chakra?" said Harry, his dark eyebrows rising over the black frames of his glasses.

"Chakra is magical energy. With wandless magic, the witch or wizard performs hand _seals_, or gestures, which control the flow of the magical energy."

With a snort, Ron commented, "That's weird."

"Not really," Hermione retorted, looking cross. She seized an apple from a nearby tray. "All magic is fundamentally based on chakra, although we don't have a word for it. Our wands focus the chakra for us, and when a colored flash of light is emitted from our wands, that's the chakra. Do you see?" Hermione bit into the fruit.

"No," said Ron simply.

With another sigh, Hermione continued, setting her food on her plate, "The essential difference between our magic and theirs is how we focus our magical energy, our chakra. Every witch and wizard has a different level of chakra, which is equivalent to their potential level of power. For instance, I would have a lower level of chakra than, say, Professor Dumbledore.

"This chakra can physically manifest itself in the form of light or color. Because we focus our chakra with our wands, when the chakra manifests itself, it is through our wands. However, because wandless wizards and witches don't use an outside focus, their chakra is regulated throughout their body."

Harry asked hesitantly, "Wait, so what determines who can do wandless magic?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Witches and wizards with the proper chakra flow system for wandless magic can either come from a family of wandless wizards or a family of wand-using wizards, or they can be muggleborns. It's really not known why they have the particular ability, but they do. The proper chakra control system does tend to run in families, but it isn't a strictly inherited trait."

Tilting his head to the side as he surveyed his female friend, Ron said slowly, "So even _you_ couldn't do wandless magic?"

"Well, you and I could perform small tricks of wandless magic—every witch and wizard can. It's actually been shown that young children have an amazing aptitude for wandless magic." Hermione looked at Harry. "Didn't you ever perform magic when you were younger, before you knew you were a wizard?" At Harry's nod, Hermione continued, "And you certainly didn't have a wand then. However, as we grow older and our chakra flow systems become fully developed, if we don't have the proper system to support wandless magic, then performing magic without wands becomes increasingly difficult."

"I thought you said it wasn't complicated," Ron complained.

"It's _not_!" Hermione protested. "This is all very basic—I've only ever read a little about wandless magic, after all. Anything else?" she added in a clipped tone.

"Why haven't we heard of any famous wandless wizards?" wondered Harry, thinking of the collectable cards that came with Chocolate Frogs, which featured the smiling, blinking faces of well-known witches and wizards.

Hermione sighed once again. "Most people who are trained in wandless magic become a special class of Auror called an ANBU, and part of being an ANBU is that you must keep your identity a secret."

"Why?"

"For your own protection, of course. Now," she said curtly, before her friends had a chance to question her further, "if you don't mind, I only came here to grab a bite to eat. I've got to get back to the library."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. Harry nodded his agreement.

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Hermione Granger squinted again, but, unsurprisingly, the words before her eyes did not evolve, rearrange, or alter themselves in any way. She had read _Hogwarts, A History_ several times in her years at school—thoroughly the first two times; and with only a little less precision ever since. However, at the moment, she couldn't help but hope that she had missed a paragraph somewhere, or accidentally skipped a page at some point. But no; not once, within all of _Hogwarts, A History_'s many pages, was there a single mention of—not even a vague allusion to—house elves and their work at Hogwarts. These poor creatures were being exploited and enslaved by humans with superiority complexes, and there wasn't even one word on it. Unspeakably frustrated, Hermione let out a short, indignant cry under her breath.

"What's wrong?" said a soft, familiar voice at Hermione's side. Startled, she whipped her head sharply over to see a thin, pretty girl with red hair and a sprinkling of freckles. It was Ginny, Ron's sister.

"Oh, Ginny, hello," Hermione said politely, smiling warmly at the girl.

Ginny remarked pointedly, "It's awfully late, you know, Hermione. Ron and Harry went to bed ages ago."

"Did they? I didn't notice." Hermione looked around the nearly empty common room. "Please don't say anything to them, but they've been so hung up on discussing this Tournament—and Konoha, in particular—that I've taken to ignoring them half of the time."

Ginny chuckled, before admitting, "I can't say I blame you. They _have_ been talking obsessively about the Tournament. Well, when they aren't talking about Professor Moody." Quietly, she added, "You must admit it's exciting, though, about the delegates from the other schools. They're arriving tomorrow. I can hardly believe it."

"Yes," said Hermione thoughtfully, her fingers rubbing the thick pages of the book she still held in her hand. "Yes, it is exciting." Suddenly, she snapped the book shut, the sound echoing dully in the silence of the common room. "However," she said, standing, "there are more important things to think about than this silly Tournament and the students from Durmstrang and Konoha."

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Despite what Hermione had said the night before, on the morning of October 30, she rose early, her mind buzzing with a strange anticipation. She did not admit this to anyone, but, during breakfast, Ron had surveyed the slight stains of tiredness beneath her eyes with a knowing smirk.

Class had seemed to pass at a snail's pace, the students' excitement so heavy that it seemed to coat everything in a dull fog, slowing time and constricting movement, until, finally, it was time for the last class of the day, Potions. This realization was met with some combination of happiness (for the delegates would soon be arriving) and worry (because Professor Snape might still try to poison at least one of them, despite the time constraint; brewing antidotes was, after all, a time-consuming enterprise).

In the end, however, no one was poisoned, and even the Potions Master himself failed to spoil the students' good moods.

Harry and Ron's books and bags were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room, but Hermione insisted on depositing her things properly, in her dormitory. The price the trio paid for those few extra moments was that they were trapped toward the back of the entrance hall, behind a swarm of chattering underclassmen. However, Professor McGonagall's authoritative voice quickly called out, ordering the Gryffindors into a line (the other Heads of House following suit), and, soon, all of the students of Hogwarts looked respectable, queued up as they trailed down the steps and gathered in front of the school.

Hermione brushed her robes instinctively as she stood shoulder to shoulder with her fellow Gryffindors, all of them eagerly awaiting the foreign students. Ignoring the idiotic comments Ron was making (honestly, how many times did she have to remind him that you _cannot_ Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds?), Hermione shivered in the slight chill, and let her head fall back to view the dusty sky, the pale moon already visible.

It was then that she saw something.

She wasn't sure what it was, at first. It was very large and looked black against the sky, as it gently floated through the air, almost rocking from side to side as it drew closer to the ground. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Surely that wasn't—?

"A leaf!" a First Year exclaimed, pointing excitedly to what was now clearly recognizable as a great, green leaf, wide and waxy in appearance. The Hogwarts students began murmuring to one another, their voices rising and falling simultaneously, like a school-drama melody.

"The delegates from Konoha have arrived," announced Dumbledore over the din. These words brought sudden silence, and those few still speaking immediately ceased when two figures leaped from the leaf, which was still suspended several feet above the ground, and easily landed on the ground. There were several calls from the leaf to the two boys who had jumped, but they disregarded the shouts, instead letting out their own triumphant whoops.

Hermione noticed that this boasting was punctuated by several short, sharp barks, coming from a small lump in one of the boy's arms. This lump jumped from the boy and began running in circles around him, yapping shrilly. Suddenly, it occurred to Hermione that the lump was actually a dog.

"Naruto! Kiba!" scolded a voice. Off of the leaf, which had finally grounded, stepped a buxom blonde woman—the speaker—wearing the same forest green robes as her students, the same sash wrapped around her waist, marked with a leaf symbol: This was undoubtedly Professor Tsunade, Headmistress of Konoha.

"Not fair," Ron said when he could finally form coherent sentences. "We get Dumbledore, and they get…_that_." Hermione glanced at him in time to see his eyes scanning the Headmistress's body. She harrumphed angrily, snapping her gaze away from the Weasley and focusing back on the scene the two Konohans were causing.

Professor Tsunade was speaking in a strict voice to the boys, probably rebuking them for their dramatics, but neither of them had the decency to look even a little sheepish. Still laughing in a giddy sort of way, they returned to the leaf, where their classmates greeted them with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was stepping forward to greet the Headmistress. "It's very good to meet you. Ah, the vibrancy of youth," he said sardonically, gesturing to the Konohan students. Soberly, he added, "I was very sorry to hear about Sarutobi. He was a great wizard. I regret that I did not see him more in his final years."

"The Third was my mentor. He spoke of you," Professor Tsunade said quietly, without the slightest trace of an accent, as she shook Dumbledore's proffered hand. "I'm very glad to meet you." After a moment, she asked, "Are we the first to arrive?"

"Yes."

The Headmistress looked thoughtful for a moment, before saying, "These are my students, obviously." She waved to the cluster of students still standing on the leaf, shrugging their bags onto their shoulders. The two troublemakers from earlier seemed to have calmed down. One of the other students—a tall boy with short, shiny black hair, which lay flat to his head, and dark, thick eyebrows—held a bundle in his arms, though Hermione could not determine from where she stood just what it was.

Dumbledore smiled again, and brought his hands together in a soft clap. Slowly, the Hogwarts students caught on, and they began to clap as well. "It's wonderful to have you here. Welcome," Dumbledore said, when the applause died down.

"Thank you," replied Professor Tsunade. "May we go inside? My kids would surely like some time to recuperate from our journey, at least until the students from Durmstrang arrive."

"But of course. What should we do with, ah…?" Dumbledore gestured toward the leaf.

"Dispose of it however you like. It's a fairly simple technique—the Second's creation, actually—and I can just do it again when it's time for us to leave."

Dumbledore nodded again, and the Konohan students began filing slowly toward the main entrance. As they were passing through the path created by the parting of the Hogwarts students, Hermione overheard some of the foreign students talking: the blonde boy from earlier, his eyes wide, was yammering loudly in a language that was clearly not English (Hermione had already deduced that it was Japanese); a girl nearby seemed to be trying to shush the blonde, while a black-haired boy muttered something under his breath that sounded like "baka."

They were through the door before Hermione could hear any more.

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Ron hadn't thought that anything Durmstrang had could excite him more than Konoha's Headmistress had, but that was before he'd known that Viktor Krum was among Durmstrang's population.

To put it mildly, Krum was a god. He was the best Quidditch player Ron had ever seen; the way he flew was just phenomenal. Even Hermione had seemed impressed by Krum at the World Cup—although, of course, being Hermione, she still didn't have a full appreciation of the Bulgarian seeker.

And, while Ron certainly appreciated the Headmistress's _assets_, in terms of importance, his hero ranked a little higher for him. Which is why, when he had the chance, he attempted to call the Durmstrang students over to the Gryffindor table to sit. Instead, they sat with the Slytherins, and Ron spent the next few minutes cursing Malfoy under his breath.

But then a Konohan student, an older boy with his hair pulled back in a short ponytail and a bored expression on his face, asked, "Can we sit here?", and Ron had felt a little better. Even though the Headmistress sat at the staff table, all of the Konohan students were around Ron, giving him a good chance to scrutinize them.

The first person Ron noticed was the student who sat across from him, a plump boy with a bright smile, who was munching on a bag of crisps he had clutched in his hand. Ron glanced to the boy's left, where, directly in front of Hermione, sat a girl with strawberry blonde hair—in this light, it was almost pink—who was smiling happily, if a bit nervously.

Ron saw Hermione introduce herself to the other girl. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said in a kind voice.

The other girl seemed to hesitate a moment, before responding slowly, her voice only slightly accented, "Sakura Haruno. Nice to meet you."

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Hermione said, and the other girl, Sakura, nodded, a wan smile appearing on her face. Ron noticed that she was fairly pretty (nothing compared to the Headmistress, of course), despite her rather large forehead.

"This is Naruto Uzumaki," Sakura was saying, pointing to a boy with an ecstatic grin. Ron realized he was one of the students who had jumped from the leaf. Gesturing to the person just to the left of Naruto, Sakura said, "And that's Sasuke Uchiha."

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Hermione repeated, this time directing the statement toward the two boys. Neither of them seemed to notice her, however, and, as Dumbledore's voice called everyone to attention moments thereafter, she forgot about the incident altogether.

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The Konohans were camping out on the back lawn.

That is what Dean had told Harry and Ron early the next morning, and Harry had not quite been able to believe it. Even knowing the comforts that magical tents could afford, Harry didn't think that someone would actually be willing to stay in them for almost an entire school year—even during the harsh winter! However, upon quickly looking out a window on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, he indeed saw two small canvas tents set up not far from the gleaming lake, where the mighty Durmstrang ship was anchored.

"Think about it, Harry," Hermione said when Harry brought it up. She yawned softly into her hand. "The Durmstrang students are staying on their ship, but the Konohans could hardly stay on their _leaf_ all year. Those tents must've been what that student was carrying," she added in a contemplative voice.

"What?" asked Ron.

"I noticed that one of the Konohan students was carrying a bundle when they arrived. It must've been the tents."

"Oh, you mean that one with the really bushy eyebrows?" Ron laughed a little loudly. "Yeah, I noticed that, too." Hermione seemed a bit surprised that Ron had been so observant, but he shrugged it off and said, "Now, let's go take a look at that Goblet, shall we?"

Harry broke out in a crooked grin. "You lead the way," he suggested, and the three students hurried to the Great Hall, minds already abuzz with questions about the mysterious Goblet of Fire.

* * *

Author's Note: So, here it is. The arrival of Konoha, and the thoughts of the Hogwarts regulars. And, yes, that's Ron ogling Tsunade in there (and, yes, I am evil; why do you ask?). Also, a little more information on the principles of wandless magic—hopefully it's becoming a little clearer to you now. 

And, yes, I _am_ aware that Akamaru gets HUGE in canon, after the time skip, but, for the sake of simplicity, I'm keeping him small. Also, I'm aware that Sakura's hair is pink (I'm pretty sure _everyone's_ aware of that), but, since this is set in the HP world, where people have normal hair color, I decided on strawberry blonde. Hope that's cool with you all.

Next time: _"Naruto," Tsunade began seriously, a small, unhappy smile on her face. She ran a hand through her golden hair, sighing softly under her breath. "Wait a moment." Another sigh. "I need to talk to you about something."_


	6. An Interlude

**Chapter Five-and-a-Half:****  
**

**An Interlude**

_Author's Note: Don't get your hopes up. This is **not a real chapter**, sorry. There will be **no furthering of the plot** here, just **excuses**._

_

* * *

_

Harry stared Trelawney down, as the Divination professor blinked repeatedly behind her thick spectacles. She was dressed as peculiarly as ever, the chains and beads around her neck and the bangles encircling her wrists clinking in an accessorial cacophony. The haze of ubiquitous incense that filled the room was, Harry suspected, forever caught in her robes—the pungent odor lingered with her even now, in the Great Hall, far from her classroom tower.

"Let me see your tea leaves," Trelawney requested of Harry, and, though hesitant, Harry handed his now-empty cup over. His throat had been sore and, at the suggestion of Hermione—who had graced Ron and Harry with her presence only rarely of late—he had downed a cup of tea for breakfast. He had not, of course, expected this.

Trelawney glanced into the cup. "I see…" she began, soft and mystic.

"My death? Doom? Complete destruction?" Harry ventured a guess.

"No." She seemed almost surprised by this. "I see…a Muggle. A young woman—a, a writer, I believe. She's repentant about _something_, but I can't quite see what. And there are several others, railing against her. It's a little foggy."

Harry frowned, wondering what exactly Trelawney was referring to.

The professor continued, "I believe—these people are expecting something from the girl, and she is unable to, at this time, deliver. Something…her family, friends, school, overwhelmed—and writer's block. She feels terrible, that's for certain. And she feels irresponsible, but, she can't—not yet, anyway. The future is still unclear. Hm…how mysterious."

With a sigh, Harry said, "So—you don't see my death?"

Trelawney blinked, then looked back in the cup. "Oh, yes. Here we are—death by bludgeoning." She set the cup onto the table, and, with a muted smile, she sighed, "That's just terrible. You poor thing."

Harry didn't even bother smiling back.

* * *

A/N: As you may have ascertained from the above piece (which took me five minutes to write, and has enough "story" in it that it can be used as an actual chapter, instead of an illegal author's note chapter), it may be a while before this story is updated again. Don't give up hope! Eventually, I will get to it. But, for the past few months, life has been crazy (and, yes, I've been a bit lazy), and getting around to updating has been difficult, to say the least.

To all of my reviewers: I worship you. Thank you so, so, so much for supporting me in this story. I'm terribly sorry I've failed you all in not updating as often as promised. Those who used, shall we say, _stronger_ language when requesting an update—well, glad to know you're so fervent.

Thanks again, and, hopefully, over the summer, I'll have more time and effort to devote to this project.


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